Jungle in New York
by Austra
Summary: UNDER CONSTRUCTION! "Do you trust me?" He yelled. "No!" I screamed back. I hated leaps of faith. But I had to take one, with someone else. Together, we would leap. Won 1st place for Adventure in NYNA! Complete with sequel: "Once Upon a Time".
1. Sensational Headline: Girl Leads Borough

"You, da leadah o' _Queens_?" The handsome boy before me, known as Jack Kelly, laughed. "Prove it."

I responded accordingly. I landed a right hook, rapidly followed by a jab to his gut, a quick feint, and ended with me gripping him in my special hold: my right arm looped through his two, held in the back, and my knife at his throat. None of this was intended to hurt him, for despite his misgivings about girl leaders, I liked him.

Jack stood, stunned, for about three seconds. Then I felt, rather than saw, a wide grin grow over his face.

Then he asked a question which startled me considerably. "How old are you?"

"_What_!" Surprised, my grip loosened slightly.

He threw himself backwards, causing me to nearly fall over backwards. I recovered, however, and had him on the ground, his arm pinioned across his back.

"How old are you?" He repeated the question as though the answer would settle something.

"Fifteen," an unexpected voice said, lazy yet sharp at the same time. "Very good, little sister."

I glanced up and grinned. "Thanks, Spot," I answered the cocky boy, "but next time, don't call me things I ain't."

"What? Oh- you mean you ain't very good." That cocksure voice drawled.

"Yeah right. I ain't much smaller than you, and I ain't your little sister anyway."

Another voice came across to me at this interval, sharp and sarcastic. "Well, now, da new leadah o' Queens!" It was Brick, as cutting and sarcastic as ever. "Well, _this_ Torch is going to burn herself out to the ground."

"Yeah, Brick." Said a voice coming from beneath me, quietly menacing. I was startled. I allowed Jack to stand, and he faced Brick, daring him to challenge my authority and his choice. "She _is_ the leader of Queens."

I stood in shocked appreciation. The support of Manhattan was huge; and the very fact that Kelly had voiced his agreement to help thus was enormous to me.

Brick stood, stunned. "A _girl _leader?"

I blinked. "Why not?" I exclaimed suddenly.

Brick wheeled and gave me a sharp look. Before he could ask anything, I continued, "Why not a girl leader? What's the matter with girls?" I turned my sparkling gaze upon Spot. "Why _not_ a girl leader?" I said, almost tauntingly.

"Why not, indeed," he remarked, quirking an eyebrow. Then he turned to Brick, his face hardening again. "You won't object, certainly," he said smoothly.

Brick glowered and said nothing.

Spot tapped his cane and smiled unpleasantly.

Jack stood with his arms crossed, silently challenging Brick.

I stood and looked on with an amused expression (which I have found is most effective for making people annoyed).

Finally, Brick muttered, "Yeah. No hard feelings."

But he was glaring quite violently.

At me.

* * *

Brick didn't dare challenge my authority openly, because that would mean open war with both Brooklyn and Manhattan- and Queens, too, now. Because (and I can say this without boasting) I was becoming quite a popular figure. I tried to care about everyone, to be fair, and to make sure all sides of a matter were heard before making judgements. Of course, I wasn't perfect, and had once had a run-in with a certain boy who made me judge _very_ quickly that he was a very strange sort of boy, and rather weak...

**_~Flashback~_**

"So, Jacobs." I fingered my trademark object- a weapon I myself had invented called a Gypsy's finger*- and lounged against the wall of some tailor's shop or other. "What are you complaining about again?"

David looked irritated. "Queens. Your territory. Your people won't leave me and my siblings alone."

I shook my head. "Descriptions."

David looked startled. "You don't believe me?"

I gave him a sharp look. "I don't know if you actually know anything about me, but if you did, you would know that I am not going to make me decisions without hearing about the facts. The way things look, it could be totally out of me control."

"Oh." David thought. "Well- it's different people all the time, you know, and-"

"David." I stood. The usage of his first name made him give me a slightly surprised look. "I may be the leader of Queens, but that don't mean I can control everything that goes on within my borders."

David's shoulders seemed to take a downward decline, but he took on courage and said, "But- you're the most respected and famous leader in all of New York- and probably everywhere else!"

I smiled, but rather curtly; I was not interested in flattery, nor in being polite. "Flattery won't get you nowhere." I said shortly.

Consternation covered his face.

"But I will." I was tired. "Go back home. I'll try to make sure it doesn't happen again."

"Thanks." David did.

After he was gone, I assigned one of my strongest birds, named Turn'Er (as in "turn her"- he had made his name by turning people around before hitting them) to shadow David and his family.

I didn't know why I did it; perhaps because of the methods David used to try to get me to help him. They were certainly unusual for the streets in Queens. Here, people would just come up to you and say, "I've got this problem, fix it or else" or would just take care of it themselves.

**_~End of Flashback~_**

**A Normal Day at the Queen's Newsies Lodging House:**

We lined up to get our daily hunk of bread from Ham, the owner of our lodging house.

His actual name was Hamilton, but we, after the course of a few months, had lovingly given him his fitting nickname.

Quiz, one of the newsies who was of a rather enquiring nature, said in greeting, "Hiya, Ham! How's the other pigs?"

"I ain't seen no pigs till just now. Look at yourself, and maybe _you_ can tell me how the other pigs are!" Was the biting retort.

Quiz blushed bright red with embaressment, and, grabbing his hunk of bread, rushed out. Everyone else laughed good-naturedly, but Sweetheart, feeling sorry for him, rushed out after him.

I stepped up next.

"Hiya, Hambone! How's the tricks?"

"They been better! Hey, when's you boys gonna pay?"

"For what?"- With an expression befitting an angel.

"You know! Don't play innocent with me!"

"All right, all right!"

I dug around in my pocket for a moment or two; then pulled out... a live snake!

I grabbed my hunk of bread, put the snake in his outstretched hand, and fled laughing.

At the door I met Jack Kelly.

Although we were on the best of terms, I made short of my greeting. "Whatcha want?" I could tell he had something on his mind.

He made short of his business. "I just came to warn you about something. There's trouble brewing in the air. The prices for the papes is going up, the people bringing the papes in are cheating us- it looks an awful lot like a strike just waiting to happen."

"Does Spot know?"

"Spot ain't stupid. I'm sure he's sensed somethin' goin' on."

"I'll be ready. Thanks."

I spat on my palm and held it out genially.

Jack stared at it.

"'Smatter?" I asked, confused; this was traditional.

"I don't spitshake with girls." His reply sent me into gales of laughter. I wiped my hand off on my trousers and held it out again. I could barely see straight, I was laughing so hard. He shook it, and I went off to work.


	2. REVISED Introducing Cocky

**REVISED Introducing Cocky**

The Newsies rush out of the Lodging House the day before we are first introduced to them.

Race and Jack, however, shuffle along behind.

None are singing.

As Jack went down the street, he kicked a pile of rags in his path.

Which promptly stood and punched him in the nose.

Our dear Jack backed away, looking rather shocked, while Race, who happened to be nearly at blows with Jack at the time, laughed at Jack's bloody nose.

Thus encouraged, the young game-seeker added a shiner to make his appearance more festive.

"Hey kid, youse don' know who youse beatin' up on. Lemme have da pleasure of in'ter'ducing Baby Jack, defenseless ta da last."

Race got a glare for his pains.

"What, Ise jus' tryin' ta per'tec' ya!"

"Ise can do me own per'tec'in'!"

He started towards the ragbag.

"Let's call it pax," suggested the aforesaid ragbag in a startling Cockney accent.

Jack looked rather surprised, then said rather cautiously, "What's "pax"?"

Race laughed and slapped his knee.

"He don' know what "pax" means!"

"Well, do youse?" Jack flashed, blushing and adding yet more colour to his already brilliant appearance.

The THING put in rather hurriedly, "It's sort o' makin' it up,"

"Yeah, dat's what Ise was gonna say!" Said Race, glad that he had not had to admit that he really didn't know.

Jack frowned and suddenly changed the subject.

"Who is youse?" He inquired.

"Well, I really ain't got no name, but some flash toff put me down as "Rags" though I ain't too fond o' th' name."

"Well, sorry, but but till wese find youse a bettah name, youse gonna be Rags. Youse wanna sell da papes with us tahday?"

"Sure!" The newly discovered Rags replied enthusiastically.

Thus Rags became a Newsie.


	3. Sellin' Da Papes: Torch

**Torch's POV:**

I reached the circulation counter and, casually swinging my knife, called out, "Hiya, Musty! How's ya attic?

"Clean. How's yours? But yours is prolly burned down by now, Torch!"

"Y'know, that's gettin' old. Try somethin' new. Hundred papes, Musty."

I gave Musty four bits and glanced back over my shoulder at Snub. She was frowning and biting her lower lip. The headline wasn't the best- _Great Schoolteacher Quits for No Apparent Reason!-_ and it was hard enough for her to sell her papes anyway, since prejudice against blacks ran pretty strong in Queens.

I fell back in line beside her. "Hey Snub, since I'm your sellin' partner for today, I'll pay for all the papes and we'll split the earnings. 'Kay?"

Snub cast me a disparaging glance, but shrugged. Obviously, she couldn't to be proud at a time like this.

It was a good thing she hadn't joined Spotty's newsies, I reflected, because Spot either would not have paid for her papes, or else would've offered in such a way that, poor or not, she would've refused.

I stepped up to Musty yet again (as if I hadn't already seen enough of him!), and said, "Hey, Musty. Business so good, I want fifty more papes."

"Right, right. Here you are."

"T'anks, Musty. G'bye." I called back over my shoulder.

As I walked away, I flipped two bits over my shoulder to Musty, and continued walking with Snub.

0o 0o 0o 0o 0o 0o 0o 0o

We were standing in the park, screaming out a made-up headline.

However, not many people wanted to buy papes from Snub, which hurt me deeply. _I wish I could do something about this prejudice against blacks! _I thought to myself.

But, finally, I decided that we had to revert to the old "that-mean-old-bully-just-stole-all-me-papes" scheme.

"Hey, Snub, would you mind bein' the bully?"

"Not at all, Torch!"

So we staged the scene.

We saw an elderly couple walking slowly towards a bench near the pond behind us.

Snub, who was considerably larger than me, picked mke up by the collar and began to fake-threaten me.

Then, in a sudden gesture, as she saw the couple coming towards us in concern, she grabbed all my papes, pushed me to the ground, and hurried off.

The elderly couple was at my side in an instant.

"Oh, darling, did it hurt you?" Cried the lady, bending down.

I grit my teeth at the "It" but nevertheless played my part well and blubbered on in fine style.

"That- that- sob, sob, mean ole bully- hic, sob, sob, just stole- wail- all me papes (hic, sob, wail, sob, hic, hic, hic)!"

"Oh, you poor thing! How many did you have?"

"Well, Ma'am, it was, let's see, about two hundred, Ma'am, but you see, Ma'am, I already sold ten of them, Ma'am-" This last bit was the absolute truth, if not the former.

"Why, you _good_ little girl! Here, take this two dollars, I'm sure it can help you."

"Why, Ma'am, thank you, Ma'am, I'm much obliged, Ma'am!"

"Now, that's a good girl! Run along to your mother, I'm sure she's wondering where you are-"

I put on my most mournful face you ever saw, and said, oh, so sorrowfully, "Oh, Ma'am, I don't got no mother! She- she's dead, Ma'am!"

"Oh, you poor child! Here, take... let's see, would two more dollars help? Hmmm?"

"Oh, Ma'am, how could I _ever_ thank you enough?" I was ecstatic. I'd hardly even had to lie at all! And now, we were both practically rolling in wealth.

_Er... As to that "both", perhaps I'd better go check on Snub, _I thought to myself.

And so, acting as though I was in an ecstatic hurry, (which, partly, I was), I rushed into the alleyway into which I had seen her disappear.


	4. Sellin' Da Papes: Cocky

**I decided to play around with Cocky's accent a bit, just for fun. If you can't understand, tell me, and I'll change it. I want constructive criticism, and lots of it!**

**Cocky's POV:**

In the morning, after having passed a night on the floor of the boys' room of the Lodging House (that being the only room, and the floor for lack of anything better), I was awakened by the voices of Racetrack and another boy, arguing. The fact that they were arguing did not surprise me a whit; I was well acquainted with the quarrelsome habits of boys.

What _did_ surprise me was the fact that they were arguing _in song._

That alone made me stare in astonishment; but what made me more amazed was the fact that _all _the boys were singing, and managed to keep a tune. I shook my head. _Well, _I thought, _I certainly didn't expect to be serenaded, so to speak, on my first morning here! _

As the boys continued to sing, I caught onto the tune and rhythm and began to sing. I was by no means a marvelous singer; but I _could_ at least keep on time and in tune, and I had a good time singing with them.

The day went very well. All the fathers dropped coins in my hand and gruffly waved away the change; all the mothers cooed over me; and all the fine ladies daintily plucked their papers from my grubby grasp, whilst _tsk_-ing about my deplorable state, and looking superciliously at their own fine attires.

I shrugged off (or even laughed over) all jibes for my reprehensible condition.

Racetrack and I (we sold together) had such an encounter with a prissy-looking damsel who looked as though she would faint if someone got within three yards of her. Race and I were careful to stand exactly three yards and two inches away, just in case. Well, more because we were afraid she'd her our gales of laughter when she asked, in an attempt at conversation, "Have you ever met the Mayor?"

Mayor? Seriously? It made Race and I nearly roll on the ground with laughter.

Then Racetrack straightened suddenly. "No, miss, but me friend has. Name o' Ja- Cowboy. Buy a pape, miss?"

I guessed he meant we'd better not make a bad impression and that we could always laugh later. So I, too, sobered, and looked owlishly at the girl. The girl nodded stiffly and went her way.

Then Racetrack hollered. "Not only did that fruitcake give us a good laugh," he crowed, as I looked at him, "she also gave us a _quarter_ by mistake!"

I gaped. "A _quar'er_? My wer', Race, ol' chap, _you _mos' be th' mis'aken 'un! A _gar'er!_" In my astonishment, my accent became more unintelligible. "U [a] 'ole [whole] gar'er [quarter]-" I seized the coin from Race and looked it over, then uttered a shout of my own. "Tha's riches! Tha's bu'y! Tha's a reg'er da'lin!" ["There's riches! There's beauty! That's a regular darling!"]

"What?" Racetrack's face was a study.

I translated. "It's gorg'us, tha's wut it is, me darlin' chap!"

"Oh." Was his utterance, accompanied with a blank look.

"C'mon," I shouted, "let's go to Tibby's!"

Racetrack continued to stare at me. "Cocky," he said slowly, "how much money did you usually make a day in England?"

"'Bout- oh, Oi [I] dunno- 'bout maybe u [a] benny or do [penny or two] a day."

Race's jaw dropped. I heard him muttering, but all I could make out was, "streets- England- bad- New York-"

"'Ey, Race," I called, as I walked ahead of him. I guessed what he was thinking. "It's ool roight. Oi'm 'ere now! Bad as loif is 'ere, Oi'm enj'yin' misel'!"

Race shook his head, obviously bemused. He stared at me and muttered.

Impatient, my pride wounded, I yelled, "Last one ta Tibby's is u grook in tha' Refuge!"

That set us both to running.

0o0o0o0o0o0

"Ool roight, den, wut's on da menu?" I said, seating myself comfortably on a chair.

"Well," Race said, "maybe some pie."

"_Pie_?" I snorted. "I couldna afford it."

Race raised an eyebrow. "Really?" He pointed to the menu.

I gaped. "Seriously? Only ha'a'benny?"

He grinned. I shrugged and grinned back. "I'll take it."

Just then Jack walked in the door. "Hey Jack!" I called excitedly. "Guess what!"

He seemed a little preoccupied. "What?"

"Da pie here is only a ha'penny!"

"Great. Guys, I have some news..."

0o0o0o0o0o0

"_What_?"

Jack braced himself. "Yeh, I'm sorry, Cocky, but you see-"

"Oi- oi- _refuse!"_

Jack shook his head. "Sorry, Cocky. We don't have another bed, and you and Race-"

"No!"

"Cocky..."

I turned away angrily. "Honestly!" I muttered. I turned back to face them again. "Ool roight, then," I agreed, but sulkily.

"I'll share. But _only_ for tanoight!"


	5. After Disposing of Some Tyrants

**Torch's POV:**

The moment I entered the alleyway, I sensed something was wrong.

Lying flat at my feet was Snub, unconscious, and beyond her were the three notorious oppressors, or tyrants, or in other words, bullies, Tom, Dick, and Harriet.

"Hiya, Torch!" sneered Harriet. "What's been burnin' lately?"

"Yeah, Torch!" Tom and Dick echoed, who were, I'm afraid, very bad copycats, and did whatever Harriet did. "What've you set on fire?" Tom inquired, lamely, in my opinion.

"You know, I've heard better. Why, jus' this mornin'-"

"We ain't interested in your history, Torch! Enough of this idle chit-chat. Cut out the jaw, and let's get down to business."

Harriet crouched, and of course Tom and Dick followed suit.

I considered the situation.

It was a pretty fair match: There were more of them, but I was by far the better fighter, and I had motivation: Snub.

So I got ready too.

I decided it would be best to go for Harriet, because if I succeeded in taking her down, Tommy and Dicky would be quite easy game.

For a moment or two, nobody did anything.

This amused me.

I smiled.

Then I gave Harriet a hard head butt in the stomach.

She doubled over.

Tom and Dick looked rather hesitant; then Harriet stirred and mumbled, "Get 'er good, boys" though it sounded more like, "Geddah gu boose".

They acted instantly.

I was knocked over, because I had been laughing at Harriet, not paying attention.

However, I was quick on my feet.

I sprang up and somehow Dick ended up lying on the ground groaning and only Tom was left to deal with.

Easy as pie. He yelped and ran.

I surveyed my work with a pleased smile, then grabbed Snub and hurried down the alleyway in the direction of our Lodging House, so Sweetheart could tend to Snub's numerous cuts and bruises.

However, when we came in sight of the Lodging House, I could tell something was afoot.

My newsies were standing outside of the Lodging House, listening in rapt attention to none other than David Jacobs, the kid who was too much of a wimp to protect himself and had to come sniveling to me for protection.

He wasn't sniveling now.

"So we have to strike, _now_!" He was saying earnestly, looking each of my newsies in the eye. I was impressed despite myself and stepped closer to listen. Then I realized what I was doing, and shouted abruptly, "What in the world are you _idiots_ doing?"

David whirled, the expression of earnestness replaced by one of abject surprise and horror. He recovered quickly, however, and said, "Um, we're getting ready for the strike?"

"And what-" Then I remembered what Jack had told me.

_Wow! _I thought. _Jacky-boy's really serious about this! Guess I'd better know what I'm getting into._

"-Is this strike all about?" I finished.

David had no qualms about telling me. "Pulitzer is charging too much for our papes and we won't buy them from him until he puts the price back where it was."

I liked that blunt way of talking, so I eased off just the tiniest bit.

"Sounds reasonable, except one little tiny thing: we have no reason to strike. We're perfectly happy. Why should we help you?" I had already promised Jack I'd come, if it got serious, and I'd keep that promise no matter what, but I was having fun toying with this impossible boy, and I wanted to see how he'd handle this.

He started right off.

"You could show a little bit of consideration. You could act like a human being. You could act, just _act,_ like there's a little bit of kindness and _humanness _in you!"

Although I didn't show it, this struck deep.

Very deep.

I was _not_ unfeeling! I didn't know why this- this _wimpy_ kid was affecting me thus; I had never known this feeling of guilt at my toughness. Trying not to show the turmoil in my heart, I said, quite vehemently, "I _will _come! When do you want me?"

David blinked and looked surprised; then shook his head as if to clear it, and said, "Right now, if you can."

I nodded, then remembered Snub.

"Oh, would you mind waiting just a bit? I'll be right there, but I got some business to take care of right now." I gestured to Snub, who had been lying at my feet during the entire episode.

"Oh, sure." David seemed somewhat mollified.

"T'anks."

I pushed past some of the more inquisitive newsies to get into the Lodging House.

And was met by another surprise...


	6. STRIKE! Cocky's POV

**NOTE: This chapter takes place on the _same day_ as the previous chapter!**

**Cocky's POV:**

"I can't- I can't- I can't!" I whispered to myself. "I just can't tell them! Not tonight- I will later!"

Later. Later I would tell them that I was a girl. But when would "later" be? Too late? Would "later" be a time of betrayal?

But it was too late to tell anyway. I was already in bed. And Racetrack was snoring away beside me.

When I was certain he was asleep enough, I crept down to the other end of the bed and lay across its width. Not altogether comfortable, but it was the farthest position from the boy, who lay there, serene and unaware of the gender of Cocky, his new best friend.

Sighing, I curled myself up in a ball so as to keep my head or legs from dangling off the bed and tried to go to sleep.

* * *

In the morning, I had the worst crick in my neck. It was the most- well, one of the most painful things I'd ever experienced. It's so strange- big things like getting a black eye don't bother me half as much as the little things like having a crick in my neck all day, or having a very deeply asleep arm all day.

I groaned. Oh boy. This was _not_ going to be a good day.

Or so I thought. But Racetrack announced that he would take me to the races this evening, and I fairly jumped with joy.

"Race, you're a regular A-1 champ, that's what you are!"

"Huh?" The look on the short Italian's face was priceless as he tried to puzzle out both my accent and my choice of words.

"That means," I translated, trying to tone my accent down, "that you are- a- um-" I groped for an expression. I couldn't think of an American one. "A brick?" I ventured hopefully.

His faced cleared and I heaved a sigh of relief. He knew what it meant!

"Say, Cocky," Mush said, coming up to me, "why did you sleep all funny last night?"

I feigned surprise. "Funny? Funny how?"

"You were all curled up at the other end of Race's bed. And dangling off the edge."

"Oh." I dreamed something up. "I guess I just moved around in my sleep."

Mush took it. He nodded sympathetically. "Yeah. I know. I used to do it too."

"You move around?" Race feigned terror. "Oh no! Tonight you might give me a shiner!"

I laughed and punched his arm playfully. "Aw, c'mon now Race! It ain't so bad! Shiners attract the ladies!"

He chuckled; he knew as well as I did that shiners did not attract; they scared off.

"Let's go," I proposed.

And so we did.

But were greeted by a surprise at the distribution center...

* * *

"They can't do this to me!" Blink yelled.

"They can do whatever they want, it's their stinkin' paper." Race muttered viciously.

"It ain't fair! We ain't got no rights at all." Boots said forcefully.

"Race," Cocky hissed, aside, "what's this ten percent thing mean?" Cocky had never learned anything about math.

"It means," Race said shortly, "that we will all starve."

Cocky looked at him, distressed.

He looked at her, and his features softened. "It means, Cocky," he explained softly, "that now we'll have to pay _sixty_ cents for every hundred instead of _fifty._"

Cocky gaped. "That's- that's-"

"Highway robbery." Jack, who had been listening in, said wryly. "Look, for thing's for sure. If we don't sell papes, then nobody sells papes. Nobody comes through those gates until they put the price back where it was."

David interjected, "You mean like a strike?"

"Yeah, like a strike!" Jack looked defiantly at David.

"_What?_" Race and Cocky said together. Race glanced at Cocky and continued, "Are you out of your mind?"

"It's a good idea!" Jack cried.

David grabbed him by the shoulders. "Jack, listen, I was just joking! We can't go on strike, we don't have a union!"

"But if we go on strike, then we are a union, right?" Jack looked deep in thought, convinced.

"No, we're just a bunch of angry kids with no money!"

"All right. Lemme think about it."

**Cocky's POV:**

We stood together around that gigantic statue that had, in fact, once been my home.

David whispered to Jack, and Jack shouted to us, "Dave's right again! We gotta think this through. Old man Pulitzer and Hearst and all them other rich geezers, they run this city. Do we really think a buncha street rats like us would have a chance against people like them?

"The choice has gotta be yours - are we gonna just take what they give us? Or do we strike?"

The Newsies are silent, faltering, suddenly uncertain.

Then a small figure steps forward and raises his fist:

"**STRIKE!"**

Les shouted.

David quickly grabbed him, but not quickly enough.

The explosion has happened- set by one tiny boy.

_If he can do that much, how much can I do?_

"Keep talkin', Jack! Tell us what to do!" Boots shouted.

Jack looked at David pleadingly.

David relented.

"Tell them- Pulitzer and Hearst have to respect our rights," With a slight sigh.

Jack repeated it, then turned to David once again.

"Tell them- they can't treat us like we don't exist." A little more effort, a little more feeling.

Jack started singing.

"Pulitzer and Hearst, they think we're nothin', are we nothin?"

**"NO!"**

There was a collective roar, which I joined.

"If we stick together like the trolley workers, they can't break us up!" David suggested, truly getting into the spirit of things now.

Jack sang, "Pulitzer and Hearst, they think they got us, do they got us?"

**"NO!"**

Again, that roar.

"It's like a union- the Newsboys Union. Are we really a union...?" More and more heated.

Jack sang again, "Even though we ain't got hats or badges, we're a union, just by sayin' so! And _The World _will know!"

"What's gonna stop someone from sellin' our papes?" Boots asked.

"Some of 'em don't hear so good." agreed Racetrack.

"Then we soak 'em!" Jack said matter-of-factly.

"No!" protested David, but once again, there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Jack started singing again, "What's it gonna take to stop the wagons? Are we ready?"

**"YEAH!"**

I swear I roared louder than anyone.

"No! We can't beat up kids on the street! It'll give us a bad name!" David protested.

"Couldn't get any worse!" Someone replied.

Jack didn't listen, just continued singing. "What's it gonna take to stop the scabbers? Can we do it?"

**"YEAH!"**

Wow. This was getting pretty loud.

But there was still more to come.

"We''ll do what we gotta do until we break the will of mighty Bill and Joe!"

Everyone joined in, roaring, "And _The World _will know! And _The Journal _too! Mr. Hearst and Pulitzer have we got news for you! Now _The World _will hear what we've got to say! We been hawkin' headlines but we're makin' them today!"

Pretty soon Racetrack, Mush, Kid Blink and I jumped onto a wagon with rotten fruit in it.

We sang, "And _The World _will know that this ain't no game! That we got a ton of rotten fruit and perfect aim!"

Eventually, we walked up to the gates, still singing.

We were singing directly _at _Pulitzer in utter defiance.

And then Jack started talking again, "We gotta get word out to all the newsies in New York! I gotta have some... whattaya call 'em-"

David supplied, "Ambassadors?"

"Right! You guys gotta be embastards and tell 'em we're on strike!"

The boys snickered slightly at his pronouncement of the word, but they were clearly excited and ready to do whatever he said.

Kid Blink yelled, "I'll take Harlem!"

Racetrack roared, "I got mid-town!"

Crutchy hollered, "The Bronx!"

Mush yelled, "I'll get da Bowery!"

Jack told them, "Bumlets, Specs, Skittery take Queens; Pie Eater and Snotty, the East side- Snipeshooter, go with 'em; okay, who wants Brooklyn? Spot Conlon's territory?"

There was a general ripple of dismay; even I had heard of the great Spot Conlon, King of Brooklyn.

And what I had heard was not very welcoming.

Suddenly, we all looked like we've got somewhere else to be.

"Whatsamatter?" Jack demanded. "Scared of Brooklyn?"

Which was the truth.

Nobody spoke.

Except Boots.

And to this day, I respect and even admire Boots, because of that talent he has of speaking what everyone is thinking, and nobody dares say.

"We ain't scared of Brooklyn! Spot Conlon... makes us a little nervous."

"Well, he don't make me nervous," retorted Jack, probably hoping to get one of them offended and to say rashly that they'd go. It didn't work, so Jack had to follow through, "You and me, Boots, we'll take Brooklyn. And Dave can keep us company. Okay, Dave?"

David glanced up, and Jack grinned at him, challenging him.

David, however, had his own comeback.

"Sure. Right after you take our demands to Pulitzer."

I swear he snickered a bit when Jack turned pale and said, "Me?"

David grinned, knowing he'd pushed the right button. "You're the leader!"

Jack then had a thought. "Maybe a kid'll soften him up a little!"

And so then everyone held their breath, just waiting.

And so then a man, maybe in his thirties, walked up to David.

"What's going on?" he inquired.

"They're going in to present our demands to Pulitzer."

"What demands?"

"The newsies' demands. We're on strike."

The man looked shocked. He took out a notebook. "I'm Denton, New York Sun. What's your name?"

David looked suspicious, but replied, "David."

"David as in David and Goliath?"

David smiled slightly, seeing this man had a sense of humour.

"Do you really think old man Pulitzer's going to listen to your demands?" He next quizzed.

"He has to." Was the firm reply.

At that instant, the doors swung open and Jack and Les were thrown out.

_Irony of ironies, _I thought wryly.

"So's your ol' lady! Tell Pulitzer he needs an appointment with me!" Jack declared.

"Yeah!" Les seconded.

Denton scribbled some more, very interested now...

"Hey Jack." David said, and Jack looked up. "Yeah?"

"Can we stop in Queens on the way home?"

"Uhh, sure." He replied cautiously.

"Good."

David looked pleased, and I wondered why. Queens was a dangerous place...

**Skip forward awhile...**

When they got back, Race asked, "So where's Spot?"

Jack looked at the ground. "He was concerned about us being serious- can you imagine that?"

There was talk- talk of quitting.

I stayed silent, unsure of what to do. I had just gotten this job! I didn't want to lose it!

Then David began to sing.

"Open the gates and seize the day! Don't be afraid and don't delay! Nothing can break us, no-one can make us give our rights away! Arise and seize the day!"

Suddenly, the place erupted in action.

Everyone was singing, dancing, laughing.

We could do it- we _would _do it!

* * *

"Hey Cocky," Race began.

"Yeah?" I looked around. It was then that I noted, with greatest joy, that the crick in my neck had disappeared sometime during the excitement.

"We can't go to the races, I guess," he said mournfully.

I slung an arm across his shoulders. "Sure we will, Race!" I said cheerily. "Tonight we'll go!"

We had no idea...


	7. And Meanwhile, in Queens

**Torch's POV:**

_I pushed past some of the more inquisitive newsies to get into the Lodging House._

_And was met by another surprise..._

...Jack!

Yes, that is correct. Jack Kelly, in the flesh.

"What are _you _doing here?" I may have sounded angry, but I was more surprised than anything else.

"I'm with me pal, Davey, the Walkin' Mouth." He replied pretty unabashedly, considering the fact that he had just taken the liberty of taking over my Lodging House, so to speak.

"The Walkin' Mouth, eh?" I muttered. "It suits him. Won't you have a seat?"

I gestured to a rickety chair I often sat in, and because of this it was generally referred to as "Torch's Chair".

He sat down gingerly, but for all his precaution, he broke one of the legs.

"Whoops." I remarked calmly; it would be silly to get angry about that. As the saying goes, no use fighting over spilled milk. At least, I think that's how the saying goes. "There goes another one." I continued, "Me favorite, too. Tea?" I asked, despite the fact I didn't have any.

He refused politely. "Well, I'd best be goin' back." He produced that charming smile I knew only too well.

"Good luck with the strike," I replied without attempting to spitshake, remembering my last unsuccessful attempt.

"Thanks." And he was gone.

Then my newsies started filing in.

I didn't want to have to go through a bunch of staring, nudging, and general conspicuousy (which I know is not a word, thank you very much!), so I suggested a game or two of something like poker.

Soon, Snub (who was bloody, bruised, but nevertheless still up-and-about) another girl named Barrels, a boy called Shooter and I had a pretty good game going, which Shooter was winning.

I didn't really mind. I was busy with other thoughts. I was just deciding that I rather admired and even slightly respected David when Shooter displayed a full house.

"Oh well." I said, and wandered off to bed.

Minutes later, when I was just about almost asleep, and all of the newsies (except the males- they had a separate room) were also in the room with me- except Snub.

I had been waiting for her, because she sleeps in the bunk below me, and since I am a light sleeper, and if I went to sleep without her already being there, I would simply be rudely awakened by her coming.

So I crept downstairs and saw her sobbing softly by the now-almost-dead fire.

I felt, true to my character, very uncomfortable.

I considered creeping back upstairs, but I knew that would be foolish; besides, this was a good opportunity for me to become better friends with Snub.

So I came closer, and one of the boards creaked.

I almost cursed, but quickly stopped.

Snub looked up.

"What is you here for?" she asked, and I knew she only sounded brusque because she'd been caught crying, and I knew how she felt because I often felt the same way.

"I-I um, look Snub, I'm sorry." I said stumblingly, not sure what to say.

"For what?" she asked half disdainfully, half disbelievingly.

"J-just for how hard it must be for you. Bein' a black and- and all dat. I sorry."

"What do you mean, 'all that'?" She demanded, then broke down. "It's not just that. It's- it's just that you have what I can never have- you can do whatever you want. I mean, you the leader! I- I sometimes feel jealous of you!"

Her voice dropped on the last words.

My jaw dropped.

She was _jealous _of my leadership?

I couldn't speak for quite some time, but then I said, "I sorry. I didn't know. I guess I never really thought about it all that much."

Snub shrugged. "That's what makes it worse. But- but I don't feel so jealous anymore. I understand the trouble that comes along with it. I- I even admire you, now. Most people would treat me like mud, but you didn't. You even stood up for me!"

I was stunned. "Well, thanks." I felt rather uncomfortable, but somehow I knew what to do. I walked over and put my arms round her shoulders.

"Let's go to bed." I suggested softly.

She nodded and smiled at me gratefully. "Thanks, Torch. You're a real friend."

I smiled back. "That's the best compliment anyone's ever paid me!" I said, and arm-in-arm, we walked up the stairs together.


	8. Refuge

**Cocky's POV**

We were wild! Absolutely wild!

I was filled with exhilaration.

We rushed through the gates and the fire was on. Blowing on my fists, I raced towards the enormous stacks of newspaper.

Whooping a hollering, everyone grabbed thousands of papers and tore them to shreds. Pretty soon the air was white with paper.

Then our fun was cut short. We heard the shrill of a whistle.

"Beat it, it's the bulls!" I heard screamed from every newsboy.

I glanced up. All of the newsies had left, save Crutchy, Race and I. Race seemed to be torn between running and staying to help Crutchy (I assume) away.

He settled for yelling, "Hey, Cocky, scram! Quick!"

I snorted at him and scrammed.

Then I stopped abruptly and grabbed Race's arm. "Race!" I panted. "Just in case something happens. I- I was too scared to tell you before. I'm a girl." I only paused long enough to see the look of pure and utter shock on his face. Then I, without abating my pace, wheeled around and went back. The thought which made me do this completely stupid thing was:_ Crutchy!_ _They'll kill him, I know they will! I have to get back- I have to- I have to- **uh-oh.**_

For there stood the Delancey brothers, in the flesh. And there was a lot more flesh on them than there was on me.

* * *

"_Stop!" _I bellowed with all my might.

They turned, startled at the sound of my voice.

I mustered all my courage. "Go pick on someone your own size," I sneered, although I was trembling through and through.

"Hey look," Oscar nudged Morris. "A cute little doll. What do you think we can do with her?"

I saw, out of the corner of my eye, Crutchy hobbling away, and I hoped I could distract them long enough for him to get away.

Unfortunately, Morris saw it too.

He grabbed Crutchy.

"Hey you," he sneered at him, "where do you think you're goin'?"

Pretty soon they had dragged us into an alleyway and proceeded to beat us; or, as the newsies called it, 'soak' us.

I tried to punch Oscar in the nose.

He retaliated by giving me a black eye.

I got Morris in a nice uppercut. My victory was short-lived. He responded by knocking me down.

_Uh-oh! _I thought. _They have sticks. I hate to think what they're going to do with those._

There was nothing we could do; I might have stood up to one of them, while only defending myself, but it was too much effort to fight both of them and try to protect Crutchy at the same time. (I rather looked upon Crutchy tenderly, to tell the truth, because he reminded me of my little brother who had died at the age of seven.)

They beat us with the sticks till Crutchy could not walk at all, and I, just barely.

Then they dragged us to a police officer and said, "Mister, these are for the refuge."

Just like someone would say, "These are slops for the pigs".

"Thanks, kid. Put 'em over there."

He, too, acted as though we were just a heap of garbage.

We were shoved off to a corner of the alleyway, and I caught a glimpse of another girl- _Another _girl? _How strange..._ I thought, but all I actually took note of was that the girl had dark hair and seemed to be debating whether or not to help us get away.

But before we could see the outcome of any decision she might make, we were dragged away- and I felt a sense of dread wash over me.

I was sure we were going to the Refuge!


	9. STRIKE! Torch's POV

**Torch's POV:**

When I reached my destination, I saw a sight that made me very happy. The Manhattan newsies were ripping up every newspaper in sight, and it was like a snowstorm of newspaper shreds!

I grinned. The strike was _on!_

I was just about to join them (it looked fun, being destructive), when I heard the shrill sound of a policemen's whistle.

Quickly, I rushed away from the place I had been standing, hoping the police would not confuse me with the newsie rioters.

I got over to where the big statue of Horace Greeley is, a safe distance away, but where I could still see what was happening.

I watched with mild interest as the newsies scattered, trying to get away. My gaze, being temporarily focused Race and some blonde kid beside him, confronted something very interesting and strange indeed.

For, quite suddenly, without abating his pace, the blonde boy wheeled sharply and ran back in the opposite direction; _towards _the place everyone was trying to get away from!

I must admit, my heart jerked slightly for him; it wasn't a very good idea to try to get yourself sent straight to the Refuge.

Racetrack, looking worried (a rare occurrence indeed for our young gambler) also turned and followed him.

He said something, and Blonde Boy shouted something over his shoulder at him in return, but it was too noisy for me to understand either of them.

Blonde Boy then went over to where I had been standing and then I noticed something I had not noticed before.

My dearest brother, whom I had abandoned years before, was trapped between the Delancey brothers.

I had no idea what to do.

* * *

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" I whispered, rocking back and forth, hugging myself. The terrible torn feeling in my heart was the one of the worst sensations I'd ever felt. I'd _abandoned_ my brother! He might not even _let_ me rescue him! Should I, or shouldn't I?

But before I could decide, the Delancey brothers dragged both the girl and my brother to a nearby policeman, then dropped them in a corner of the alleyway.

Then they were picked up and hauled off- and I knew where they were being sent.

To the Refuge.

I made a quick decision.

I would wait till they had been put in the Refuge to try and rescue them. After all, even if I _had_ abandoned Crutchy, he was still my _brother_!

So I carefully made my way back to the Newsies' Lodging House to see if I could arrange to see their leader- Jacky-boy himself.

* * *

"Wait, wait, wait." Jack ran a hand through his hair, making it twice as messy as before. "You want to risk your neck to go rescue two people you've never met?"

I nodded; Jack, by some miracle, still didn't know who I was before I became the leader of Queens. Thus, he didn't know why I wanted to do this.

He shook his head. "Mad, you're mad." He muttered.

"Well," I said, standing abruptly, "I just wanted to tell you. I'm going to go regardless of whether you say yes or no."

"Oh, I'm not _opposed_ to you doing this!" Jack said, looking up quickly. "I- I'm just a little confused, is all."

"Well, whenever you're done being confused," I said, standing up straighter, "then I'll go."

"I'm done," he said, with his usual charming smirk.

"Okay, then. Goodbye."

"Wait, wait!" Jack grabbed my arm. I shook him off and snapped, "What?"

"Don't you want some help?"

"Help?" I snorted. "I don't need your _help._"

"Not mine. Well, that is, not mine directly. Help from one of me newsies."

I considered. It would be nice, in some respects, to do this alone, but then there was the fact that I might need help. (Much as I hate to admit it.) "All right."

He seemed surprised, as though he had expected me to say otherwise. However, he recovered very quickly, much to his credit, and asked whom I'd like to have come with me.

I had not considered this before, and took a quick inventory of all his newsies.

David Jacobs _might _have been my choice, but he made me- feel... _strange._ It wouldn't be comfortable. Jack? No! Mush, much as he's a great kid and all that, well, he tended to lose his head in situations such as these. Kid Blink was both as harmless and as annoying as a fly; and the rest I hardly even knew.

So that left just Racetrack.

And so I motioned towards him and I went out the door, and, with an inquisitive glance at Jack (who nodded), he followed.

He actually, for no apparent reason, seemed very happy at the prospect of to the place that nearly every kid in his right mind dreaded.

I shrugged this off, and, to make up for doing this stupid thing I was about to do, I stalked straight on ahead of Racetrack, not glancing to the right or the left, merely determined to get this over with.

* * *

**Cocky's POV:**

This wasn't good. This was not good. This was very, very bad.

It wasn't enough that I was being shipped off to the Refuge. Oh, no! Much more had to happen.

I had to get stuck with Snitch.

Snitch, the one person I would _not _care to spend any amount of time with.

Snitch, the person you'd meet for the first time and come away with a black eyes (if you were lucky, that might be all you'd come away with).

Snitch. And he was sitting on the bench just across from me. In a tiny little green wagon.

This was not good.

I squeezed myself into a corner and hoped that he would just keep to himself. I was already black and blue all over anyway.

But I would gladly have ridden twice the distance with him than have to do what I did when I got there.

I had to share a room with him.

* * *

Of course, there _were _other people in the cell with me. But, well, he was there, and that was that. And unless I escaped within the next forty-eight hours, I was doomed to die.


	10. Enter David

**Cocky's POV:**

I was staring out the (barred) window of the room both Crutchy and I had been sentenced to. Along with (I believe I mentioned) Snitch.

The were only two other girls in there, so I concluded that there were so few girls taken there that Snyder did not even bother to separate the girls from the boys.

Nails (the nasty one) and Cat (the nice one) and I shared a bunk. Nails slept on top (because neither Cat nor I were inclined to share with her) and Cat and I on the bottom.

As for the bed itself- the frame of the bed was wood, and creaked when anyone sat on it, no matter how light, and threatened to break. As for the mattress- well, there was none. Just a board and a thin blanket. However, it was summer, so it didn't really matter.

What _did _matter was that it was absulutely_ sweltering_ in there. I mean - imagine the hottest summer day you've ever experienced. Then imagine having to stay in a room all day without air conditioning or even a fan, with hot, sweaty people and it stinks and it's the Refuge to boot.

But what's so bad about the Refuge? You ask. Why is everyone afraid to go there? In one little word, ladies and gentlemen, I will tell you why: Crips. You know those people that the big shots of the city hire to kill innocent kids so that they don't get their nice waistcoats dirty? They're called Crips. Because they cripple you. Body, mind, and spirit.

That wasn't all. Snyder wasn't about to let all that "energy" go to waste. He put us to work at different jobs, each one leaving us tired and sick and miserable at the end of each long day. And, you see, the Crips are hired to make sure we do the chore we are assigned to.

The Crips are worse than the bulls, because, since they are being paid to do this, and since they are just street people, they have no sense of justice. They decide they will get as much fun out of it as they can manage, so they just hurt us at random, even if we're doing a perfectly good job at what we're doing.

They'll come into a room, holding whips, chains, brass knuckles, and the like, each day, ready to use them.

Every kid in there, no matter how brave, cringes when the hear the heavy "stomp, stomp, stomp" and the clanking of chains, and the snapping of whips. It's terrifying. It _hurts. _And they use filthy language while they're doing it. They call us unrepeatable names, and there's a different name for each time those detestable whips or chains or brass knuckles descend.

And what made it worse- the kids in there weren't exactly of the highest class, some particular boys especially.

I was put to work sewing shirts. I, even to this day, shudder every time I have to sew a shirt or the like; it reminds me too strongly of that awful time I had to spend making my eyes red sewing all those shirts.

With every passing hour I planned my escape. Which would not be an easy one.

**Torch's POV:**

Racetrack and I reached the Refuge, and I stared up at it, shuddering in spite of myself. Racetrack looked at me curiously, but, thank goodness, held his tognue.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a figure in the shadows moving. "Race, quick! Hide! Or run! Or something!" Racetrack chose to run. He bolted like a mad horse.

I carefully made my way, very cautiously, over to where I had seen the shape. After all, I didn't want to look like a coward, rushing away from, say, just a stray cat!

So I looked at the place where I had seen the form (it was behind a barrel)- and let out a long, loud sigh. Partly of relief, partly of annoyance.

For there, large as life and twice as natural, was David Jacobs.

I sighed again and called in a stage whisper, "Race! Come back! It's only a stray!"

I turned back to David with an unmistakable smirk on my face which I had stolen from my (adopted) brother Spot. Then I proceeded to inquire, "What are _you_ doing here?"

He smiled confidently and said, "I just wanted to congratulate you!"

"On what?" I eyed him suspiciously.

"Oh nothing." He said hastily. Then, "What are we going to do next?"

"We?" I raised one eyebrow, something I'd been working on, and was quite my masterpiece, "_We_?" Oh no, there's no _we_ my dear fellow."

"But- but-" he faltered, for once at a loss for words.

"But nothing." I said curtly; he was making me extremely nervous. "Racetrack and I are going to get Cocky out of the Refuge. Period. _You _have nothing to do with it."

By this time, Race had crept cautiously back, apparently either concerned about me or simply determined to get this Cocky person out. I hoped it was the latter: as I've said before, I'm not the wearing-skirts type, if you know what I mean.

However, when I turned back to concentrate on figuring out how to get her down (she was imprisoned in the top part, we found) David stayed with us, evidently set on helping us.

I shrugged and said, "Suit yourself."

Then a twinkle appeared in my eye as a plan presented itself to me.

This was going to be fun.


	11. Interesting Place for a Proposal

**Torch's POV:**

"David," I directed, "Stand here. No, _here._ Argh!"

I took him by the shoulders and postioned him exactly where I wanted him. As I did so, I *accidentally* looked up into his eyes and was greatly discomforted by the intensity with which he was staring back at me. In the moonlight, I could see that his eyes were a sea blue. Just as an f. y. i.

I quickly looked away and started rambling intructions. "Now, let me climb up on your shoulders. And- _hup_! There. Now, Race, hand me the rope. Good. Now- just give me a little- _ha-up_! Good."

I, having climbed from David's shoulders and from windowsill to windowsill, was now standing on the rooftop, feeling slightly conspicuous. I quickly tied the rope to a pipe-like structure I saw petruding from the rooftop. It seemed sturdy enough. I threw the rest of the rope down and called softly, "Climb it!"

David seemed slightly startled but nodded and reached for the rope. Racetrack, however, was quicker.

He grabbed the rope and clambered up, somewhat clumsily but eagerly. When he reached the top, however, he tripped and went sprawling on the roof.

I was uncomfortable; as I've said before, I'm no good with the hurt.

"You, er, all right, Race?" I asked finally, somewhat awkwardly.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, and though he seemed a bit shaken, he also looked determined.

I had turned towards him, so my back was to the wall we had come up.

I was startled- no, _shellshocked_ when a pair of arms encircled me and turned me around. I tilted my head back and stared up into the sea-blue eyes of- David Jacobs!

"What the bloo- I mean- _what are you doing?_!" I roared- still in a whisper. I still, miraculously, remembered to whisper.

He looked infuriatingly smug. He gave me a little squeeze and then released me. He was grinning foolishly.

"I can't believe what I just did!" He gasped finally, and spun around, despite the fact we were on a rooftop some fifty feet off the ground. _And _on the rooftop of the Refuge to boot!

I stared at him, and if I had never doubted his sanity before, I did now.

I shook my head. "Is he like this a lot?" I inquired sympathetically of Race, who had come over and joined me in staring.

"No," he replied, gaping till I feared his eyes would pop out of his head.

I shook my head again and walked over to where he was still dancing like his clothes were on fire.

I took him by the shoulders, fully intending to give him a harsh scolding, but what I should've (but unfortunately did not) anticipate happened.

He hugged me and then stunned me enough to knock my non-existant socks off. He laid his lips on mine, and I'm afraid he would've been glad to remain in this position if I had not pushed him off and backed away, saying, "Are you all right, Jacobs?"

The usage of his last name, spoken coldly, brought him around- to a certain degree.

"Torch," he began solomnly, "you _do _know that I love you?"

"But-"

"And that I am currently trying to court you?"

"_But-"_

"And that I very much wish to marry you?"

"**But-**"

"And that-"

"_**David Jacobs, will you listen to me**_!"

He stopped and gazed innocently at me, a twinkle in his eye.

"Good." I drew a deep breath. "I don't know if you knew it, but to court a girl, you gotta _tell_ her you're courting her, and she has to _agree_. I-"

"But I just did!" He said, both excited and exasperated. "I just asked you, and now all that has to happen is for you to agree!"

"And what if I don't?"

He appeared not to have considered this before.

"You- you mean you would _refuse _me?"

I was wickedly satisfied to see him turn a lovely shade of green.

"We-eellll..." I said, drawing it out...

* * *

Though I kept a smooth exterior, my mind was whirling.

What should I say? I barely even knew him! But suddenly I had an overwhelming sense of certainty, of surety.

I may have only known him for a short while, and my first impression of him may have been bad, but he had done what no other human being would've ever dreamed of accomplishing; he had caused me to fall in love with him!

And falling in love was something I had not known I was even capable of doing.

So I opened my mouth to give the fatal "Yes"...

**David's POV:**

She stood there, smirking; but it was an absent, frozen sort of smirk, as if she'd put it on and forgotten to take it off.

While she stood there, she averted her gaze to stare down at the rooftop, and I noted absently that her eyelashes were extremely long and thick.

I stood there for what seemed an eternity, waiting, waiting...

**Torch's POV:**

The "Yes" burst from me in an explosion of happiness, and startled David so that he took a slight step back, his eyes wide.

"'Yes'!" He breathed, as though he were afraid to speak it too loud for fear he'd heard wrong.

I nodded, my eyes shining. "Yes!" I cried, and was surprised and shocked to find tears springing unbidden to my eyes.

David stared at me incredulously; then, in a sudden, single leap, he came to me and pulled me to himself.

My tears of joy were wiped away as I pressed my face into his shoulder. (F. y. i.- my head just barely came up to his shoulder.)

However, just at this breathtaking climax, we were disturbed by a slight coughing sound behind us.

Sighing in unison, we turned simultaneously towards the sound, and saw Race, shuffling his feet and looking embarrassed probably for the first time in his life.

We looked at each other sheepishly, and went back to our former intention- getting Cocky out.


	12. Snyder

**Torch's POV:**

"Torch," Racetrack grabbed my arm urgently.

"What?" I- all right, I'll admit it- snapped at him.

"Cocky's a _girl_."

"_What_?"

"She's a _girl_!"

"And why should this matter to me?" But I already knew why. He wasn't saying it for my benefit. He was saying it because it came as a shock to him, too, and he was trying to fathom it.

"I- I like her." I have never in my life heard Racetrack Higgins speak so... embarrassedly? Ashamedly?

"Well, we all have our problems," I said cheerfully.

He looked stricken.

I relented. "I'll be very, very careful, Race," I said, and even patted his shoulder gingerly.

* * *

We decided (or rather, I decided) that they would stay on top of the roof and lower me down, by way of the rope, to the level of Cocky's cell.

I rather suspect that Racetrack would've liked to have been the one in my place, but it was decided in the end that I was the best choice, partly because I was lighter, partly because, okay, I'll admit it, I was the one who had thought this whole thing up anyway, and I wanted my share of adventure.

_And my brother..._

So they, with some misgivings on both sides, lowered me down and I studied the lay-out of both the bars and the room.

It was by no means a nice room; there were two lines of bunk beds with children all over, and a fireplace that looked positively ashamed of itself, and also quite out-of-place.

I scanned the room, wondering who in the room was Cocky.

There were three girls total, and I studied them carefully.

One had red hair and green eyes. Not her, I thought decidedly.

One had light brown hair, and I liked the looks of her, but I recalled how the boy- _girl!-_ I had seen had had golden hair.

And, sure enough, there she was, playing poker with some other kids.

No-one had noticed me yet, so I called in a stage whisper, "Cocky! Hey, Cocky?"

Sure enough, the girl turned her head...

**Cocky's POV:**

I heard someone call my name.

I didn't recognise the voice, but I turned my head to look all the same.

And gaped wordlessly.

For there, suspended in air, was a girl who was small enough to have been thirteen but whose face looked old enough to be eighteen. I guessed she was somewhere around sixteen.

She was looking at me with an unmistakable air of relief.

"C'mere." She said, with great authority.

Excusing myself from the poker game I was currently engaged in, I came over warily...

**Torch's POV:**

She came over slowly and I gave a sigh of relief.

I mean, seriously, this girl had never seen me before, and most likely never would again, so why should she trust me? If I were in her shoes, I wouldn't trust myself either. Well, I don't trust me anyway, but that's irrelevant, and I'm trying to keep to the point here.

So then I whispered to her, "Hey, are you Cocky?"

She nodded warily.

"Good. I'm getting you out of the Refuge, okay?"

"A-all r-ri-ight..." she said slowly, and I noticed that she had a cockney accent.

It was obvious she didn't trust me, so I suddenly thought of something to convince her that it was all right.

"_Racetrack_ is up on the roof waiting for us." I said slyly, much as one would say to a five-year-old that there happened to be ice-cream in the freezer.

Her face changed. "Oh- all right," she said diffidently. "How are you going to get me out?"

Just at this interval, we heard a great commotion.

"Warden Snyder," Cocky muttered out of the corner of her mouth and I mumbled, as I was swung out of view of the window, "You don't have to tell me. I've known him from way back. _Way _back."

He came down the rows of beds, looking sly and suspicious and pleased with himself.

I was once again reminded why I hated him.

I really, really, really hate self-satisfied snobs, sly people, and people who run jails.

What I say is, If you're going to stab someone, don't do it in the back. If you're going to insult someone, do it to their face. And if you're going to do _anything,_ do it _hard._ And bluntly.

I anxiously waited for him to leave the room.

But he just came closer and closer to the window!...


	13. This is Interesting?

**Cocky's POV:**

I was literally quaking.

This was going to take some _really_ quick thinking.

Just as I was about to make a desperate attempt, like knocking into him, or faking a fainting spell, or something like that, Crutchy saved the day.

That blessed boy said, "Mistah Wahden Snydah, sir?"

Snyder stopped and looked at him.

The others stared, wondering if he were trying to commit suicide.

"I noticed," Crutchy continued, keeping his cool, "that while you were taking a nap today..."

I gave a sigh of relief and ignored Crutchy's ramblings; something about the drains, perhaps, or possibly the kitchens.

Truth be told, I wasn't paying the slightest attention.

As soon as Snyder had been talked out of the room, I turned back to the window to tell the girl (blimey, I didn't even know her name!) that the coast was clear, but she had already realized this and was back in view of the window.

"I think these bars are weak enough to-" she gestured and I nodded.

Taking my fate in both hands, I grasped the bars in both hands and pulled.

Nothing. My heart sank like a stone.

"Try again!" The girl urged.

I did. The bars moved just a little. I smiled triumphantly at the girl. She gave me a patient, pointed look.

I did it again, and again, and then- "Shoddy work, shoddy work!" I cried exultantly, as they came out completely.

Then I thought of something. "What's your name?"

The girl looked startled but replied glibly, "Torch."

"And I believe you already know my name."

"Uh-huh."

It was a strange place for introductions, and she seemed to think so as well, for she grinned and even chuckled a little. (I say 'chuckled' because to this day I have never heard her _giggle_; she would've been very insulted had anyone dared insinuate such a thing.)

We then began operations.

**Torch's POV:**

I swung myself into the room.

A murmur of appreciation arose from the inmates.

I untied myself and re-tied the rope around Cocky.

"Does it feel secure?" I inquired.

She gulped and nodded. She looked rather white, but also very determined.

"Are you sure you'll be all right?" I asked, somewhat awkwardly, and she nodded again.

I went so far as to squeeze her hand, and then she stepped out the window.

It was then that I heard a sickening "SNAP"!

The rope was breaking!

"Boys!" I called as loud as I dared. "Pull her up! Quick! The rope's breaking!"

They, however, did not need my frantic warning. They had already realized what was going on and were pulling her up as quickly as possible.

I admired the way Cocky kept her head, and her cool, even though she seemed about to faint.

Most girls, about now, would be screaming their heads off. But then, I reflected, most girls wouldn't be _in _this mess in the first place.

From what I would tell from my position inside the Refuge, Racetrack was in turn pulling frantically at the ropes and telling David to be gentle and careful, with David telling him in reply to "calm down, I'm doing my best!".

Watching Cocky, I saw a splendid demonstration of bravery- and of using your head.

Cocky, while still looking faintish, was instead of just letting them full her up, climbing the rope!

(Now, I want _you_ to try to climb up a rope, half-fainting, about fifty feet off the ground, on a rope that's breaking, outside of a jail you're trying to get out of. It's very difficult, I'll tell you that right now!)

After Cocky _finally _reached the top, and Race hugged her, and David stopped telling him to "calm down", I realized something somewhat interesting: there was no way for _me _to get out now.

Hmmm. _Interesting._


	14. They Were Beautiful

**Torch's POV:**

I couldn't bring myself to look at my brother.

_My brother..._

Instead, I stood with my back to the room and said, trying to disguise my voice, "C'mon, I'm trying to help you escape. So escape already."

I didn't hear anything, but a few moments later I felt a hand on my shoulder that made me flinch violently.

He _mustn't_ turn me... I can't let him see my face...

He turned me.

I choked on a sob. I wanted to hug him... but after all I'd done, he'd never even want to look at me...

He drew me to himself. "It's okay, baby."

I wouldn't cry; I _couldn't_; I was the strong leader...

A tear splashed down onto the crutch which had fallen, unheeded, to the ground.

I sobbed into his shoulder, and his tears fell into my hair.

"I love you," I whispered. "I- I never should have- can you- please, forgive me!"

"Oh darling," he said softly into my hair, "I forgave you before you did it."

I choked again. "I'll never, ever, ever, ignore you again. I'll always-"

"Shhh..." he said soothingly.

Much as I wanted to never leave him, I knew that the others would be worried about me. Finally, we broke apart. I supported him to keep him from falling, and he tenderly traced the outline of my face.

"I'll get you out of here," I promised, "soon."

He smiled, and we embraced one last time before I went over to the window to climb out.

* * *

**Cocky's POV:**

When I got to the top, Racetrack gasped, with something suspiciously like a sob, "Oh Cocky!" and pulled me to himself. Then, very roughly, yet at the same time gently, placed his mouth on mine.

It was only after a few moments of standing in this position that we heard someone muttering behind us, "What a very disturbing display."

We turned, and saw David Jacobs.

Upon us staring at him, hard, he had the grace to blush, and shuffle his feet. "Now how do we get Torch out?" He inquired, almost defiantly.

Racetrack and I stared at each other, rather stupidly, it must be admitted, and it was then that it hit me.

We had left my rescuer in my former position- that being the inmate of a jail -with no means of escape!

* * *

"Well, what are we going to do?" Race said finally.

David paced back and forth on the rooftop, thinking and frowning mightily.

Racetrack and I glanced at each other, and mutely warned the other not to disturb him, or else suffer the dire consequences.

Race and I soon began to whisper to each other, however, and Race related to me what had been the happening on the rooftop some five or ten minutes ago.

Suddenly we heard David's voice (although at first I didn't think it could possibly be him), stating, "We'll just have to let Torch get herself out."

We gaped.

He put his head in his hands.

When he re-emerged from this state, he said, "Look. Do you really think I _want _to leave Torch in jail? This is just the best way to do it. We don't really have any other choice. And besides which, she will be able to do this a lot more efficiently than we could, and-"

"Wait, wait. What does that "fishy" word mean?" Racetrack demanded.

"You mean, _efficiently_?"

"Yeah."

"Well, it means effective or skilled or- oh, I don't know. Race, just shush."

From what I could see in the dim light, Racetrack looked mortally insulted.

"I just- I was just curious," he muttered.

He quickly regained his composure, however. "How do you know that?" he next demanded.

Dave shrugged. "It's obvious." He stated shortly. "But we've got to somehow tell her we're just leaving her to her own devices-"

"All right." And without further ado, Race leaned over the wall and said in a stage whisper, "Hey Torch, I'm sorry, but you've got to use your own ices. I mean-" I poked him- "You'll have to get yourself out."

"I should have known you guys would pull a stunt like this," came the reassuring answer, then a sigh. "Oh well. It's fine."

Racetrack looked relieved, and David looked abjectly worried.

"Let's go," I suggested gently, knowing that David was probably not in the best of moods.

We climbed down, from windowsill to windowsill. Once or twice I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming when I stumbled on the way down. Or when Racetrack did.

I was the first to reach the bottom, and when I did, I bit back a scream.

There lay Torch, unconscious, at my feet.

* * *

Before Race called out to me, I already knew that, since the rope was broken, the boys would have no other alternative but to let me make the suicidal climb down the wall of the Refuge.

So I set out.

Carefully, I slid onto the edge of the windowsill. Already, as I looked down the thirty-feet drop, I felt sweat on my forehead and hands.

Crutchy stood worriedly behind me, but was helpless to do anything.

Cautiously, in one smooth motion, I swung my entire body around so that my stomach was on the windowsill instead.

Just then, one of the kids cried, "_Snyder!_" Apparently, someone had been keeping watch.

_Why would he come back when he's just been here?_ I wondered, but absently; I was very much preoccupied with trying to get out of sight and not break my neck.

I slid down, holding onto the ledge of the window, trying to feel with my feet for the next ledge.

_A thousand curses on my shortness! _I screamed in my mind. I couldn't reach the ledge. I knew it was right there, only about five or six inches away... I knew what I had to do.

My whole being raged that I couldn't, but Snyder was coming back. I knew I had to, or he would see me.

You know how sometimes you'll be doing something absolutely terrifying and then suddenly, everything seems to be going in slow-motion? Like nothing is really real, it's just all a dream, and a very, very slow one?

That's what it felt like when I let go of the ledge.

Crutchy's terrified face was the last thing I saw with my eyes-

David's sea-blue eyes was the last thing I saw in my mind.

_They were beautiful._


	15. The Fight

**Torch's POV:**

We walked back to the Lodging House, and I decided to spend the night.

I knew I really ought to be getting back to my newsies, but I sensed the excitement in the air, and didn't want to miss out on anything.

And sure enough, the next day, the excitement began.

0o0o0o0o0

"Open the gates and seize the day! Don't be afraid and don't delay! Nothing can break us, no-one can make us, give our rights away, arise and seize the day!"

I glanced over a David. He looked earnest and was staring straight ahead.

I was just about to follow suit when he turned his head slightly and smiled at me. I smiled back and we turned back to watching the gates.

Then everyone started dancing wildly.

I stared.

Then David winked and spun me around.

I was too stunned to do anything but follow the lead of the boys; that is, to whoop and holler and dance like my life depended on it.

However, after about three minutes of this insanity, all of us formed several lines and, crouching, linked arms.

Then a wagon with a wild horse came charging up, and even I ran to the side like the other boys to avoid being trampled.

After the wagon had passed, however, we rushed up and through the gates.

A shock was what greeted us.

The bullies. Mercenary, hired to hurt.

"Whoa, Jack, Jack, it's a trick!" Race screeched wildly, clutching Cocky and swiftly getting out of their path.

They were armed with chains, knives, whips, etc.

I vaguely saw Cocky turn white and cringe against Race, before I swung into action.

Taking out one of my knives, I aimed and carefully threw it at one of the HTHs (**h**ired **t**o **h**urt).

It hit him with a dull _thunk! _and he went down.

I didn't know whether he was dead or just badly injured, but I didn't wait to see.

I whirled to the next man, who was trying to sneak up on me, and gut-punched him, then finished him off with a stab of another of my knives.

I retrieved both knives and began working harder, faster.

The others, by this time, had begun to likewise take action, but the HTHs were gaining.

Until-

_"BROOKLYN!"_

The cry went up from everywhere.

I grinned up at Spot happily. _Good tah see ya agin,_ I think he said.

At any rate, just then someone yelled, "Torch, watch out!" a moment too late.

_Yeah, thanks for that! _Was my last conscious thought as something heavy descended on my head and blackness engulfed me.

0o0o0o0

**Cocky's POV:**

When I was certain there were no HTHs around me, I took a quick breather.

Suddenly a cry arose from all the newsies, and I glanced around in surprise and apprehension.

"_BROOKLYN!"_

I looked up a the walls, since that was the direction everyone else seemed to be focusing on.

I cocked my head and squinted against the hot summer sun. There was something familiar about that boy. . .

Suddenly, I felt pressure on my mouth. My immediate reaction was to try to scream, but of course I couldn't.

I kicked back with my feet, but came in contact with- nothing.

I was going fast. I was about to black out. The person who was holding onto my arms was also grasping my mouth and nose in filthy hands.

I decided to try something.

I slumped suddenly in his/her/it's arms, closing my eyes.

Instantly I was dragged away, and tied, gagged, and put in a sack.

"Well, goodbye world. Goodbye Race. It was nice knowin' ya." I thought before I was finally swept into the complete darkness of a faint.


	16. Definitely Not Good

**Torch's POV:**

Ookaayy, time to wake up, time to wake up, time to- _oowww! _Headache. Not good.

I sighed.

Promptly a shadowy- _something_ came over to my bedside and said, "Oh good, you're awake. I-"

"Noooo." I groaned, flapping my hands in the general direction of the voice. "I am _not _awake. I just- _ow! _What do you think you're _doing_?"

"Giving you something that you will be grateful for afterwards!" said another voice severely.

I squinted up at the shapes before me.

There was a girl. . . who I had never seen before. . . with light brown hair and sky-blue eyes.

And then my heart did flip-flops, and I found myself, much to my amazement, blushing.

There was David. "Hi- I mean, h-hi!" I said, sounding not at all like myself, very high-pitched and childish. Oh well.

We smiled idiotically at each other for some time, before remembering the girl. "Oh yeah." David couldn't help himself: he sat down on the edge of my bed and took my hand. (Wait, _my _bed? Something's wrong here. Except that David's hand feels _so_ nice. . . margh, pull yourself together, Torch!)

"Torch," he said finally (I loved the way he said my name!), "this is Slip. Slip, this is Torch."

"I _see_." was all she said, but her look said much more. I blushed again.

"So," I said after an awkward pause, "what's wrong with me? Where am I? Who _are_ you, exactly?"

"I just _told_ you," David muttered under his breath, but was silenced by the terrible look I sent him. . . which rapidly gave way to a smile. I hurriedly offered him my cheek. He gave it a quick peck, and we turned back to Slip again.

She pretended that the whole scenario had never happened.

"Welll-l-l. . . you got a pretty nasty knock on the head-"

"How so?"- Eagerly. I love gore, unfortunately.

She smirked, sensing my anticipation- and instantly squashing all my hopes. "You were knocked out-" -I poked her -"by none other than Skittery's elbow!"

I groaned.

"Well, really," she conceded, "it was the combined efforts of Skittery's elbow and a bull's club."

I brightened.

"He wasn't aiming for you. He was aiming for Skittery- thus the mark of his elbow imprinted on your head."

My eyes widened.

"Just kidding."

I sighed.

"And so there's a bump the size of an egg-"

I drew in breath rapidly, and raised my hand to my head-

"A robin's egg, that is."

I nodded, disappointed. I felt the spot with an inquisitive hand- and brought the aforesaid hand down with a wince.

"And I was putting ointment on it."

"Thanks. I think that's all I want to know. All right, time to go."

"Where to?" David and Slip said in unison.

"_Where to_?" I repeated incredulously. "You _do _realize there's a strike on, right?"

"Yee-aah," David said slowly, "but that doesn't mean we have to rush off to the ends of the earth with you the way you are-"

"Whatever." I rolled my eyes.

"Hey Torch." David said hesitantly.

"Yeah?" I looked at him suspiciously.

His expression brightened. "Would you like to go on a walk with me?"

My eyes narrowed; then I shrugged.

Honestly, I shouldn't be distrustful of the person I'd just kissed last night!

Or should I?

My thoughts were cut off abruptly as I realized he'd interpreted my shrug to mean, _Sure, whatever, why not?_.

So we walked out the door, holding hands.

And walked straight into a distraught Racetrack.

**Cocky's POV:**

I woke up with a raging headache in a dark alleyway.

"Oh, so da princess has finally decided tah end her beauty sleep!" a sarcastic voice said.

I remained silent.

I knew that if I asked any questions, I'd merely get mockery.

The boy (I was supposing it was a boy) at last spoke again. "Bring her out in the light so I can see her."

I was grabbed by a pair of grimy hands. I hated people touching me, especially if I couldn't even see them. I tore myself out of their grip, even though I was still bound. The gag had been removed.

However, the hands followed me and gave me a sharp cuff on the ear. I refused to cry out, knowing that that was the response they wanted.

They dragged me out into the daylight and had the grace to prop me up against a factory wall. Sitting there on the ground, with my feet and hands tied, I was helpless.

I calmly nodded as I recognized one of them. "'Ello, Snitch." I remarked casually, as though I had just met an old friend on the street.

Snitch, on the other hand, looked flabbergasted.

When he finally got his voice back, he turned in rage upon one of the other boys (there were four altogether, counting Snitch.).

He swore and spat out at them, "I told ya ta get _Steel._"

_Steel? _I thought. _I wonder who _that_ is. And I wish that whoever it is, they were sitting here instead of me!_

"B-but- but-" one of the boys stuttered, "I thought that _was _Steel!"

"Well, youse thought wrong!" snapped Snitch icily. "Steel and dis rat look _nothing_ alike. Steel looks _nothing_ like dis goil."

_You just said the same thing twice!_

"S-sor-sorry boss!" spluttered the boy helplessly.

I, however, was hatching a plan. And it might just work!

When I was in the middle of my masterpiece plan, my thoughts were cut off abruptly as one of the boys gave me a merciless slap across my face.

My face stung, and I wondered if it were bruised or bleeding. It felt that way.

"Youse listen tah me when Ise talkin' ta ya," hissed Snitch, tilting my head back and staring into my sea-blue eyes. I shrank away from his green gaze, from his horrible breath.

"Ise said ta ya," he said, dangerously low, sickly sweet, "do youse know where a cute little doll cawled Steel is."

"Why do you want to know?"

Another slap. This time I felt tears spring to my eyes at the pain. I wanted to cry out, to run, I wanted to just get away, somewhere safe! . . . oh, Racetrack, where are you!

"Just ansah da question!" He snarled. I felt spittle fly at my face.

"Wh-what does she look like?" I inquired shakily.

"She's about dis tall"- below his shoulder -"she has dark hazel eyes, short really dark brown hair, she's really skinny, and dark, and-" his voice almost softened- almost "-and she's kinda pretty."

I could've sworn I saw his face grow gentle for a split second; however, I dismissed the idea as highly improbable and extremely out-of-character.

"Well," I said cheerfully, trying to hide my pounding heart and trembling hands, "it just so happens I know a doll who looks just like that." And so my plan began to be.

"Youse do?"

"Sure. But I ain't gonna just hand her over without getting something out of it. Let's trade- my freedom for your girl."

His eyes narrowed. I shrugged.

"It's that or nothing."

He looked about to explode.

I nonchalantly examined my feet, which were stuck straight out before me.

"Done," he burst out finally.

I smiled. "Untie me and I'll show you to her."


	17. I'm Dying, Do You Hear!

**Torch's POV:**

_And walked straight into a distraught Racetrack. . ._

"She's gone- I can't find her- I don't even know what happened- she was there one minute- then-"

I decided to take charge.

"All right, Slip, are you any good sneaking and finding things?" I asked her, as she came up behind me.

"Um, sure. I can be, I guess. It's not my forte, though. Why?"

_That's funny, _I mused absently, not really paying attention to it, _she talks like a big shot! Like she comes from some kind of _refined _family. . . Torch, that's completely irrevelent!_

"Well, then, you go and see if you can find her. Look in Bronx. People from the Bronx-" a little tremor ran through me "-are highly suspicious. Okay?"

"I'll meet you back here within an hour. If I'm not back by then. . ." She was gone.

"Race, you can go and-" I looked at him more closely. "No, you can go get in bed, actually."

"_What_!"

I gave him what was meant to be a superior look. _Hmmm, _I thought, _he probably wouldn't stay there anyway. _"Well, you can go to the Bronx and look."

He looked at me with a not-all-there expression before rushing out.

"Well, David, let's go ahead and take that walk."

He gave me a strange look.

I shrugged, and we walked out.

**David's POV:**

We were on our way to Brooklyn, thinking that perhaps Cocky had been taken there. Brooklyn infamously the "dangerous territory", perhaps due to the reputation of a certain Spot Conlon, whom I had met.

Torch, nevertheless, seemed completely cool and unconcerned.

However, as we walked through Bronx on our way to Brooklyn, I saw her whole body tense, and her hand, in my own, tightened.

I squeezed her hand comfortingly, and she looked up at me gratefully. I marveled. I never thought I'd see the day when Torch looked at _anyone _gratefully, especially me.

Well, we were actually nearing the Brooklyn Bridge, at the water's edge, when we heard someone shout, "There! There she is! _That_ is Steel!"

Torch looked white, whiter than a sheet. She looked as though she were about to either scream, faint, or throw up. She murmured, as if in a dream, "But- I. . . killed him. . . Oh dear God!"

Just then we heard another terrifying sound.

Footsteps running, and a knife clanging against something.

I tried to get Torch into the water, so we could perhaps swim away from danger, but she was half-fainting, and she either couldn't, or else wouldn't, move.

**Torch POV:**

. . . He was dragging me toward the water!

I tried to scream.

I would _never,_ and I repeat, _NEVER! _go near the water! Not if you threatened me with a knife. . . _with a knife._

That was exactly what was happening!

I am officially now going to faint.

But David had by this time, dragged me to the water's edge. I stared down into the murky water. I could barely see anything, it was so filthy.

Now came the final choice- whether to die by the knife or by the water, for if I got into the water, I would surely drown.

And that was the worst death I could possibly imagine.

So I choose death by the blade.

_I'm not ready to die! _I thought, and now I was crying, not tears of joy, but tears of terror and agony. _I thought I'd be able to live. . . David, DO SOMETHING!_

And he was doing something.

Throwing my frail body into the water, he followed up by very rapidly hurling himself in as well.

I really did scream then, but it was a very weak scream, and it was cut off abruptly as I hit the water.

And then darkness, far darker than the water, overtook me.

I fainted, for the second time that day.

_What a rotton day! _Was my decidedly obvious and disgusted mindset as I blacked out, to drown.

**David POV:**

After hitting the water, I started swimming away, when I thought to see if Torch was coming as well.

I glanced back- and felt positively sick.

_Torch was gone._

I mean, I couldn't even see any sign of her swimming underwater.

_Huh, funny, look at those bubbles over there. They look like- _I bit back a scream.

_Torch was drowning!_

_She must've fainted and then she probably just sank like a stone. . . of course, that's why she was struggling, she's deathly afraid of the water because she can't swim! Oh no, Torch, I've just saved you from one death only to have you die another!_

**Cocky's POV:**

This trick was really easy to pull off. I mean, I'd done it about a million times. If the person was desperate enough, it never failed to work. It's like promising a five-year-old ice cream to make him obey.

I tried to shrug off the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach. _What if something goes horribly, terribly wrong? What if I get hurt? What if Racetrack gets hurt Or even- __**dies**__?_

I wouldn't admit, even to myself, that the thoughts buzzed around my mind, but I knew they were back there, and I bit my nails secretly in anxiety. That was something I hadn't done for quite a long time; a childish habit I thought I had grown out of.

We were just going into Brooklyn territory, with the water in sight, and I was about to put the rest of my plan to action. But I was startled out of my senses by a loud shout.

"There! There she is! _That_ is Steel!"

The shout had come from Snitch.

Being of a rather curious nature, I looked in the direction everyone else was.

And felt confusion at first, then a sick feeling hit the pit of my stomach.

That girl couldn't be- but she was- _Torch!_

"Hey dollface, thanks for the help," Snitch hissed triumphantly at me with a smirk before darting towards Torch, drawing his knife as he did so.

I was paralised.

Then, all in a matter of moments, Torch and David were in the water. I rushed to the water's edge and tackled Snitch bodily to prevent him from going after them. I got a bloody nose and a sliced arm, but hey, I saved Torch and David!

Er, I mean- I looked out into the water. I couldn't see Torch at all. David happened to glance my way, and yelled, "Cocky, Torch is drowning! Go get help! Fast!"

I nodded, but my legs were unsteady and I couldn't seem to be able to stand upright. David didn't look to see what I would do but dived beneath the surface. . .

**David POV:**

I glanced around wildly. _Oh, funny, that girl looks farmiliar. . . it's Cocky! Yes!_ "Cocky, Torch is drowning! Go get help! Fast!"

I didn't look to see what she would do but dived into the murky, treacherous water. I, of course, couldn't see a thing. Then I felt something. Yes! It was a body. Which means I had found Torch. Which would've been great, except that I was running out of air, and needed to get back to the surface. . .

**Cocky POV:**

He came back up!

While I was glad that he was alive, I was dismayed. He didn't have Torch. Determination filled me. This girl had saved my life. I wasn't about to let her drown.

I dived into the water in the same place he had, heedless of my arm and nose. (Well, actually, I automatically pinched my nose. . . but whatever. You're not interested in that, I'm sure.)

My hand connected with something. It was cloth, and flesh. Yes! But was I strong enough to haul her to the surface?

_Please, please, please don't let me run out of air!_ I prayed silently.

Grasping the body firmly, I pulled.

So far, this was easy.

Suddenly, I sensed a disturbance in the water.

And hands, groping, closed on Torch's body as well. They helped me pull her to the surface.

When we reached the top, both David and I took big, long breaths and pulled Torch's limp, barely-breathing form into the ground.

At first. . .

**David POV:**

. . .She wasn't breathing! I was going to kill her for dying. . . but then. . .

"Look!" whispered Cocky. "She's breathing!"

"But barely," I muttered, nonetheless glad.

"Cocky, hurry, go to the newsies, get them, fast, get Race, Slip-"

She ran in the direction of Manhattan.

Torch was so tempting; she was so frail, so helpless, so. . . After Cocky had been gone just a few minutes, I could resist no longer.

I took her lifeless-seeming form gently into my lap and stroked her cheek. And then, raising her head slightly and bending mine down, I softly kissed her lips.

When she was awake, she was so arrogant, so untamable, so distrusting and unreachable. Now, as she lay senseless in my arms, she was exactly the opposite- meek-looking, child-like, trusting, attainable.

I sighed. What a choice I had made! Yet it really wasn't my choice-

Just then the newsies came galumphing up like a herd of elephants.

"I don't know much. . ." Slip (with Skittery close-by) said slowly, "but one solution is to give-"

Truth be told, I didn't hear what she said. All I know is that she somehow miraculously had managed to bring Torch back, as it were, from the dead!

I almost could've cried as Torch gasped, choked up the filthy water that was killing her, and sat feebly up.

The trusting look remained, but only momentarily.

When her gaze fell on me, I knew I had some explaining to do.


	18. Explaining To Do

**David POV:**

_. . .When her gaze fell on me, I knew I had some explaining to do. . ._

Torch did not allow me to carry her home to the Lodging House, but instead accepted Jack's offer.

I felt as though someone had slapped me.

Snitch, whom everyone in the moments of excitement, had forgotten, was dumped into the water.

We didn't really care whether he lived or died. I mean, sooner or later the bulls would arrest him or something.

When we were back at the Lodging House, Torch informed me that she needed to talk to me. Her eyes were cold. Her fists were clenched, and I tried not to feel betrayed; after all, that was how she felt about me!

We went to a room in the Lodging House that was deserted.

The rest of the newsies went to Tibby's to celebrate winning this one phase of the strike.

And so our conversation began.

**Third Person [Normal POV]**

Torch and David sat and simply looked at each other for some time. Neither of them knew quite what to say.

Finally, Torch blurted, "How could you _do _that to me! Half-drown me! You- you-"

David interrupted her, equally heatedly, "How could _you_ do this to _me_! I- I-"

They glared at each other for some time, before bursting into laughter.

"Sorry- not- laughing- at you-" gasped Torch between spasms of laughter.

"Neither- am- I!" David managed to choke out.

When they had sobered, David ventured to ask, "So. . . do you mind- I mean, would you- um, uh, er, I just-"

Torch waited with a patient expression, though that wasn't what she was feeling. "Yes?" She queried.

"I just- um, well- whatisitwithyouandSnitch?"

"_What_?"

"I mean- what-is-it-with-you-and-Snitch?" It was still all run together, but it was at least intelligible this time.

"Oh- um, well. . ." Torch seemed extremely uncomfortable. Her face was bright red. She could feel the heat.

"Yes?" asked David after a long silence.

"Well-" Torch's voice was small and unstable. It was very different from the Torch he knew. "Well, um. I guess- I kind of owe you an explanation. I mean, I- er, I guess I'll tell you the whole story.

**Torch's Story**

**A/N: All the hesitations and Torch interrupting herself and David's promptings are put in italics. Thank you.**

"Well, I was- "_are you sure you want to hear this?" "Yeah, Torch, just go!" "Oookaayyy. . . if you don't want to hear it, just tell me, OK?" "Yes, Torch, just go!" "Yeah, OK." _So anyway, I once was a Manhattan newsie. And- "_are you sure you want to hear this?" "Torch-!" "OK, OK!" _So I was a Manhattan newsie. "_Whew, maybe that's enough-" "TORCH!" "OK, OK," _and I, um, was Crutchy's sister. And so then this one day, I didn't like- well, maybe I should explain a little more. Well, I didn't like being a newsie. I didn't have enough freedom. I didn't like the fact that I had to be all submissive to the other newsies, 'cause they were older than me, and 'cause they were boys, and Crutchy being my brother-and-all, he was pretty protective. Well, there was this guy called Snitch. Although back then he was Sneak. And- _"I think that's all for now. Let's just go to Tibby's or something, kay? I really think you don't want to-" "Torch-whatever-your-name-is, I will personally-" "Right, right. Whatever." _So then he convinced me that it would be a good idea to, um, well, uh, kinda, well, be with him. So I- did. And so then. . . weee-eelll. . . I found out that he wasn't really such a pleasant young chap, so then I fought with him, and I was _so sure _I killed him -_shudder- _but this one day, he came back, and nearly killed _me,_ and so here I am!"

**Third Person [Normal POV]**

David sat and stared very unhelpfully. Finally, after a few minutes of this, Torch burst out, "Well, _say _something!"

David blinked. "Um, that was. . . good?"

Torch glared. "_Good_? You think that was _good_? You- you- _nitwit_! You did _not _think it was _good,_ you hippotamamic landmass!*"

David looked at her. "Yeah, you're right," he said slowly, "I didn't think it was good. I was just knew you'd get mad if I'd said what I really thought."

Torch glared even more fiercely, if that was possible. "What do you really think?" She all but growled.

"I think," he replied calmly, "that you should kiss me."

"I say," Torch put out a fist, "that what you say," she opened it and placed it on his shoulder, "is what I say." And she pulled him close.

"You're a good lad." She grinned at him. "Thanks." He replied.

Just then Tumbler rushed in, shouting, "Hey fellas, they want you at Tibby's!"

Torch grinned as Tumbler started to rush out again. "Hey kid!" She yelled after him.

"Yeah?" Tumbler poked his head back in.

"Want a piggy-back ride?" She queried solemnly.

"Sure." Tumbler replied in an awed voice.

Torch shook her head. "No, kid, you say it like this: SURE!"

David winced and put his hands over his ears, but Tumbler's eyes sparkled as he yelled loudly, "LIKE THIS?" in delight.

"You're gettin' there, kid." Torch rumpled his hair approvingly and swung him up on her back, and, holding David's hand, they walked to Tibby's.

0o0o0o0o0

**Cocky POV:**

Once I had gotten the Manhattan newsies, and we had revived Torch, Racetrack and I finally had time to ourselves.

We sat in comfortable, snug silence on a crate. Racetrack ventured to put his arm around me. I didn't at all mind. "So-" he began; then stopped. His voice was cracking. "I _mean- _er, that is- ummm. . ."

And suddenly, unexpectedly, we were kissing. I'm _not _going to get graphic; I'll just say that kissing Racetrack is the most delightful thing I can think of. It's waaayyy better than anything I'd done thus far in my life.

Someone cleared their throat. Sheepish, even guilty-looking, we turned to face the speaker.

"Um, we're, uh, going to um, Tibby's, if you, er, want to, um, come. . ." Skittery's voice trailed off and he and Slip ducked away. _IN-teresting. . ._

Race and I shook our heads and grinned at each other.

Suddenly, a girl with auburn hair messily falling out of a ponytail came darting out of an alleyway and bumped into Race and me.

"Oh- dreadfully sorry- really I am- oooohhh, Blink, stop! Right this- aaaahhh!"

The reason for this "oooohhh"ing and "aaaahhh"ing appeared to be the fact that Blink, eyepatch-less, had come out of the alleyway after her and had begun tickling her furiously.

"Hey, Blink, _what_ is going on?"

The girl and Blink stood up sheepishly and the girl spoke. "I guess I'd better explain. I'm Adren, I'm a newsie, and I just stole Blink's eyepatch. So he got mad and chased me and then I bumped into you two. Sorry."

"A newsie?" I frowned, then, slowly, remembered something. "Oh, I think I remember seeing you the first time I came here. You played Mafia with me, remember? Why haven't I seen you-"

"Oh yeah." She grinned brightly. "Well, it's like this. I live with my family- or-" her face fell slightly- "used to. But my mother's really sick, and she can't afford to take care of us all, and so I became a newsie. Then my mother got even more sick, so I had to take care of her for a while."

I blinked. _Wow._ "Oookaaayyy." I said slowly, "What-?"

Just then Jack swung by with Torch, yelling, "C'mon, hurry, Denton's waiting for us at Tibby's!"

I grinned at Adren. She and I were going to be great friends, I could tell. I couldn't wait to introduce her to Torch! "Well, let's go!" I said, and, all of us laughing, we went to Tibby's.


	19. Kings AND Queens!

**Normal POV:**

When David and Torch entered Tibby's, a conversation was underway.

David, grinning, went over to Denton and said, "So. You got us on the front page!"

Denton smiled back the two of them. "You got yourselves on the front page. Just gotta make sure you stay there."

"So what. You get your name in the papes, what's that gonna get you, huh?" Skittery put in. Slip rolled her eyes. "Oh _honestly, _Skitts!" She muttered.

"What are you talkin' about?"

"Shut up, Skittery. You been in a bad mood all day!"

"I'm not in a bad mood!"

"Glum and dumb. Whasamattah with you?" Race asked, slapping Skittery. A smile flitted across Torch's face. Irrepressible!

"You get your picture in the papes, you're famous. You're famous, you get anything you want." Race slapped the table with the newspaper emphatically.

"That's what's so great about New York!"

Torch shook her head and chuckled as the other newsies cheered and Mush (along with Cat), started singing.

"A pair of new shoes with matching laces!"

"A permanent box at the Sheepshead races!" Cocky and Racetrack sang in agreement.

"A porcelain tub with boilin' water!" Spot sang teasingly at Jeans, while she laughed and shook her head playfully.

"A Saturday night with the mayor's daughter!" Blink, earning a glare and a slap from Adren.

"Look at me," Race sang solo, "I'm the King of New York! Suddenly, I'm respectable, starin' right atcha, lousy wit' stature!"

Jack grabbed the paper, and leaning back, sang, "Nubbin' with all the muckety-mucks, I'm blowin' my dough and goin' deluxe-!"

"-And there I be!" Race interrupted, taking the newspaper from him, "Ain't I pretty-!"

"-It's my city, I'm the King of New York!" Jack joined him.

"A corduroy suit with fittin' knickers," -Boots.

"A mezzanine seat to see the flickers," -Les.

"Havana cigars that cost a quarter!" -Snipeshooter.

"An editor's desk for our star reporter!" David sang. Torch rolled her eyes and groaned quietly.

"_I _personally would like to just get out of here!" She muttered unappreciatively.

But then couldn't help joining in, quietly at first, then louder and louder, "Tip your hat! He's the King of New York!"

Denton, beaming all over his good-natured face, sang, "How 'bout that! I'm the King of New York!"

"Nothin' flat!"- Several newsies turned to stare at Torch -"He'll be coverin' Brooklyn to Trenton, our man Denton!"

"Makin' the headline outta hunch," Adren added.

"Protectin' the weak-"

"An' payin' for lunch!" Slip put in.

"-When I'm at bat," Denton continued, "strong men crumble!"

"-Proud yet humble," Torch couldn't help singing.

"I'm the King of New York!" Denton and Torch sang together, looking at each other with laughing eyes.

"I gotta be either dead or dreamin', just look at that pape with my face beamin', tomorrow they may wrap fishes in it, but I was a star for one whole minute!" Everyone sang in awe and disbelief. Torch and Cocky shrugged off the fact that they were not in the picture, due to the fact that they had been knocked out. Slip was not in it either; she had been tending to Torch, and Adren had been elsewhere. Everyone started roaring and dancing as they sang, "Holy cow! It's a miracle, Pulitzer's crying, Weasel, he's dying! Flash-pots are shooting bright as _The Sun*1_, I'm one hifalutin' son of a gun! Don't ask me how, fortune found me, fate just crowned me, I'm the King of New York!" At this point, Torch, finding the singing and dancing somewhat dizzying, went out into the adjoining alleyway to cool off.

There she was met with a very strange spectacle.

Slip and Skittery were also in the alleyway, and it looked to Torch as if _romantic happenings _were about to ensue.

She quickly turned to go back into the restaurant, but accidentally tripped and half-fell, with a stifled "beards and bed-steads!" (courtesy of having heard Specs say it).

Slip and Skittery hurriedly turned, Slip tense. She relaxed (though only slightly) when she saw Torch. "I was afraid it was going to be Father." She breathed. Skittery squeezed her hand and frowned slightly at Torch. Who frowned back.

_Hey, that frowning business is my business! _She thought. . . _or used to be. . . anyway. . ._ "What. . . um, is, er, uh, that is- um, I think, um, I'll be going. . ." She edged towards the door.

Once safely inside, she burst out laughing. "That was _hilarious_!" She gasped.

David came over. "What was hilarious?" He inquired, grinning.

Torch described the scene, and he laughed as well. Torch, very curious, couldn't help asking,"Just who exactly _is _this Slip person?"

David sighed. "Well, it's actually a pretty strange story. Her father is rich, and wants to keep her so he can marry her off to a nasty young chap called _Archibald Bindweed*2._" Torch wrinkled her nose. David nodded, "Exactly. So she's kind of living a double life: having fun with us and befriending us newsies, and acting like the lady they want her to be around her family. And she's fallen in love with Skittery to boot! So now- she doesn't know what she's gonna do."

Torch nodded thoughtfully, and smirked. "Let's see what we can do about that." She said it so sweetly that David was sure she meant no good for somebody.

***#1: Did anyone else ever notice that play on words?**

***#2: That, in "The Language of Flowers", signifies sneakiness, et cetera, et cetera (did anyone else know that's really how you spell "etc."?)**

**"Jeans" is from the most awesomest Eavis's story "No More Random Goils", (used with permission), and if you have not read that certain magnificent story, I recommend going and reading it NOW!**

**Third Person (Normal POV):**

While the festivities were proceeding, Cocky found herself staring more and more at the extremely good-looking, blonde-haired King of Brooklyn. When he caught her staring at him, he would smirk, and she would blush fiercely and look away, thinking furiously, _Oh great, now he thinks I'm in love with him!_

Which was not _at all _the case. . . . .?

Finally, she couldn't take it any longer. She went up to the beautiful, golden-haired girl standing next to him (_I _think_ her name is something about cloth. . . something. . . um, let's see. . . Denim? No. Corduroy? Ugh. Fl- oh, of course, I remember, it's Jeans!) _and said, "Could you please tell him that I am _not, _and I repeat, _**not, **_in love with him? I'm just st-"

Suddenly she broke off. And the _incredible_ stupidity of what she was saying was not the only reason- it was-

"_**Patrick**_?"

Spot turned. His eyes, upon meeting hers, glazed over. Cocky flung herself at him.

Jeans, thinking, _Now I know what Dash must've felt like!_, hurriedly stepped in front of her, brandishing a thick, leather-bound book fiercely.

The only effect was that Cocky looked quite stunned, and as though she were about to cry.

Spot shoved Jeans aside and stepped towards Cocky. "_**Rags**_?" He whispered incredulously.

Jeans drew one of her knives, but just then, Cocky threw herself on him, crying- nay, wailing. "Oh _**Patrick**_!"

Suddenly she broke away from him and punched him, screaming a great many names at him which would not look at all nice in print.

The punching seemed to bring him round. "Here, now, little lady-" He tried to grasp her arm. However, having just come out of a daze, and because Cocky was so furious she was not going to be subdued, he wasn't very successful.

"LITTLE _LADY_!" And the punches broke out more fiercely than ever. "I looked for you for _two years. __**Two years, **_you dirty rotten _!"

Abruptly, the tirade stopped, and Cocky, with a gasp, stood stock-still.

"_Rags_, you'd better stop right now." Said an oily voice from behind her.

"Yes, certainly." Replied Cocky in a monotone.

"And you'd better come with me."

"Yes." Still in a monotone.

The thing, with the grip on her neck never loosening, guided her to a doorway- where the grip was promptly released.

Cocky whirled, drawing a knife. There was a girl behind her, looking as though she'd just swallowed the moon, and a body with a black mask on its face lying in front of the girl on the floor.

"My name's Giggles, and I'm _dreadfully _sorry I knocked your friend here over! I didn't mean to! It's just, this place is _incredibly _crowded, and I was trying not to spill my plate of food. . ." Her voice trailed off, and she looked momentarily afraid as her gaze swept over the unruly pack of boys.

Cocky nodded understandingly, and said, "Actually, I'm quite grateful to you. That person-" she glared down at the object, still motionless "-was _not _my friend."

"Ah, I see." said Giggles, making a noise which appropriated her name. "Would you like to sit with me?"

"Actually, I have a- well, I sort of have- well, I- have something to take care of." Cocky glanced over at Spot and Jeans, who were talking earnestly. . .

Meanwhile, Jeans and Spot. . .

"Spot, _who _was that girl? And if it's what I think. . ." Jeans looked more worried than ever, if it were at all possible.

"Listen, Jeans. It isn't _any_thing like before. I-"

"Oh, so if that's so, why were your eyes glazing over? And why did you shove me out of the way and go to her?"

"Please, Jeans, just listen, all right?"

Jeans crossed her arms. "All right."

He took a deep breath. "I knew her in England. . ."


	20. Who Knows Everything?

**Third Person [Normal POV]**

"Oh no!" David looked at Torch apprehensively. "What are you going to _do_!"

Torch gave him a sly, mischievous look. "Secrets."

"Torch." David took her by the shoulders and gave her that look that only David can give.

However, although Torch generally disliked being touched _at all_ by anyone, she did not twist away. Instead, she smirked and kissed him.

"**Torch**-! How on earth am I going to deal with you when you act like this?"

"You're not." Torch smirked again.

"No." David shook his head resolutely. "I am _not_ letting you off. Torch, you tell me, or else-!"

"Okay, okay!" Torch squirmed out of his grip and then looked up at him with a suddenly appreciative look. "Hey, you're kinda strong!" She said, in a surprised tone of voice.

David rolled his eyes in a _very_ David-like way, but Torch went on impishly, "You don't _look_ like much, you know." She gave him a decidedly saucy look.

"All right, young lady, that is-" Suddenly, David stopped as he saw her expression. She looked so sick he was unsure whether she was going to throw up, faint, or both. "Torch?" He asked uncertainly.

"David." She said, quietly, and in a carefully controlled voice, "I want you. To do. _Exactly._ What I say. Without. Questioning. Me."

"Oookaay." David matched his tone to hers.

"Thank. You." Torch now sounded like a robot, or a vending machine. "Now. I want you. To go over to Spot Conlon. And I want you. To tell him- _Laura_ needs a favour." Towards the end, you could here the pain in her voice.

"Yessir." David walked calmly over to Spot,- you had to admire the kid -bent, and whispered something in his ear. Instantly you could see a change in him (Spot). Note I said _you_ could see a change in him; Torch certainly didn't. She was busy with Other Things.

**Third Person (yet again)**

Torch walked quite calmly (or so she'd have you believe, although she was really shaking with fright) over to Cocky and said evenly (well, sort of), "Hello, Cocky, I believe we've met. I also believe this young gentleman friend of yours and I have met."

Cocky looked at the figure still prostrate on the floor over with an expression of profound dislike and disgust. "I have _no_ idea why so many people around here seem to think that this-this _person_, who, I might add, I ain't never even seen before, is me _friend._ I mean, he just _attacked _me."

Torch's throat constricted. "I saw." She said tightly.

"Oh." Cocky looked Torch over with an expression of interest. "I- see." She said.

Torch bent down to the person on the floor with an almost expressionless face, her eyes filled with pain. Just at the moment she jerked the mask off, David, Race, Spot, and Jeans came up.

Three big reactions from three people. Spot, a shocked look and the smallest strangled sound; Cocky, a gasp of horror; and Torch, a small cry of pain.

Cocky wheeled to face Spot. "Patrick," she whispered, her face stricken, "I'm- it's- I- _your father!_"

Of course, it was obvious that Spot knew his father, but her words caused a sensation.

"Your- father-" Jeans looked winded. Then she put her hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah." Torch muttered. "Too bad for him." She nodded towards Spot.

"I never knew you had a father," said Race before he thought. Then he put his hand protectively over Cocky's.

"You knew about this?" David queried of Torch.

Spot finally spoke. "Meeting. At the docks."

0o0o0o0o0

The meeting was awkward and quiet. "Who knows the whole story?" David said with his usual effectiveness, after several attempts had been made to sort things out.

Everyone looked uncomfortable. Everyone wasn't sure if they _did _know the whole story; because, after all, what _was_ the "whole story"?

Finally, however, a noise was made. It was Torch clearing her throat. "Um," She said timidly, with unusual shyness, I think- I think I do. At least, I might. That is, I- well, I'll try."

Everyone looked at her, David with a "well go on then" expression; Jeans looked thoughtful, and very serious; Race looked very bewildered; Cocky looked shocked, and Spot looked as though he agreed: he nodded his head.

Because of the combined efforts of Spot's nod and David's "well go on" look, Torch took a deep breath and began in a very shaky voice, "Three years ago. . ."

**BIG TIME HEADLINE! There will be no next chapter. =O You heard me right! Instead, watch for the sequel, "To Fire a Faith"!**


End file.
